


It's the middle of the night (can we confer, sir?)

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron likes to feel smol, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Feminization, Light Somnophilia, M/M, PWP, Shame kink, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dark of the night, Alexander's expression shifts - false anger and cruel smiles appearing hidden in the corners of his mouth. </p><p>Aaron yearns to reach out and touch them, to smooth out the unnatural lines. Instead, he pulls his arms back to his chest, pressing up against the mark Alex left on his skin. Shame, low and deep, rolls through him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the middle of the night (can we confer, sir?)

This is not how he planned this evening to go. 

Alexander’s dark eyelashes are flayed out on his cheeks, illuminated in the silver light of the moon shining through the window. His face takes on a morbid stillness in sleep, its lack of passion not so much peaceful as it is startling. When Aaron forgets to blink, Alexander’s expression shifts – false anger and cruel smiles appearing hidden in the corners of his mouth. It’s an illusion, like staring at one’s own reflection in the mirror for too long, but it makes a heavy weight settle low in Aaron’s body.

Disturbed, he finds he can’t look away. Frozen in his place, Aaron watches Alex’s still expression and the rise and fall of his chest. 

They are both nude. Alex lies on his back, slightly turned towards Aaron, who is on his side watching him. The moonlight turns their skin to pools of shiny mercury and dark shadows. It’s forgiving, wiping clean the dark circles around Alex’s eyes and the marks the war left on both of their bodies. Alex’s hair is out from its customary tie and spread across the pillows. Aaron knows the smooth slide of it’s silk intimately. Still, his fingers itch to touch it.

He pulls his arms to his chest to avoid reaching out. He knows Alexander won’t mind, would probably even applaud Aaron for his spontaneity, but the weary exhaustion that forever hangs over the man restrains him. This is the first night Alex has found his way to Aaron’s bed in over two weeks. They’d fucked and then they’d slept. Aaron can feel the heat of a hickey on his chest where Alex had worried his skin, always so mindful at Aaron’s request to avoid the parts of Aaron that he showed the world. Aaron should be sated, he thinks. 

He’s not. 

The fingers of his right hand come up to feel the heat of Alex’s mark on his chest, gnawed into the skin above his heart. The abused flesh is warm from the assault and he presses down with his palm, enjoying the resounding ache. His mind awakens the other signs Alexander has rubbed into his skins, pulling their sensation to the forefront of his mind. His lips feel bruised. There’s a pulse on the back of his shoulders where Alexander had slammed him against the door, eagerness overriding Aaron’s larger size. 

He doesn’t realize that he’s begun to rub circles around the hickey until his cock starts to take notice, Alex having mingled the pain and pleasure receptors of his brain long ago. He can feel himself grow heavy between his legs and tries to spread his thighs, only to feel the weight of Alex’s legs tangled around his. He’s trapped.

Much as Alexander needs sleeps, he is _not_ a heavy sleeper. Aaron stills himself with a silent curse. 

Yet - his cock is still half-hard and his body is flushing stupidly with endorphins. He doesn’t want to stop - and why should he? 

But if he cannot untangle himself from Alex without waking the man, then he will just have to deal with his problem here. 

Aaron can feel himself flush at the idea. God, Alex would _love_ it, would love Aaron’s depravity, even as it tickles against Aaron’s own sense of propriety. 

That sense of properness doesn’t stop him from slowly spreading his own fingers across his chest. He slides his hand down from the hickey to circle around his nipple, a feathery touch of the tip of his fingers. His back arches subtly before he commands himself again. 

Still and silent. That’s how this will have to go. 

His continues his barely-there ministrations. Always Alexander has complained about Aaron’s slowness, but truthfully, Aaron enjoys being patient. The thrill of anticipation has always engaged him more than the triumph of completion. The threat of waking Alexander only keeps Aaron’s movements more forcibly slow and light. 

He trails his hand up and skirts them over the harsh line of his jugular, around his own smooth shaven jaw and over his lips – lightly, like the brush of another. Then down he lets them trickle, over his Adam’s apple and down the center of his chest until they dance across a line across his belly that makes his muscles twitch involuntarily. Then up again, and back down, and over and over.

He skirts over his nipples on random strokes, never pausing to indulge in the zap of pleasure that follows. He knows his own game well, recognizes the slow wake of his body as his skin tracks the movement, pulling up goosebumps in the wake of fingertips. His nipples grow harder each time he passes them. The pleasure a sharper tug in his belly when he brushes them. 

His cock grows heavier between his legs and Aaron allows himself to indulge. He shortens his strokes until they circle almost exclusively around his nipples, which bunch up in anticipation. He realizes that he’s started timing his strokes to the rhythm of Alex’s breathing – the man’s face is so strange in the moonlight. It’s wrong to see it without its customary spark, the fire in the man’s eyes and the biting wit of his mouth and – 

Aaron’s toes curl as he pinches down hard on his own nipples, squeezing the sensitive flesh for a count of _one and two and three and four…_

Aaron releases and the blood rushes back. He rubs his thumbs over the now throbbing buds, feeling them heat at the abuse. He counts four more of Alex’s breaths before he takes them and squeezes them again, just a harsh now, as he was gentle before. He bites his lip to keep from crying out. His knees want to pull up, his back to arch - he keeps himself motionless. 

As he pinches, he twists and pulls. Alexander likes to bite, loves to do most anything with his mouth really, but by the time his lips hit Aaron’s chest he’s usually already sliding down to the main event. Aaron’s been neglecting himself really, letting Alex set the course so far. And Aaron had been cruel to his own body for ignoring the little things.

He remembers the time in college when he’d spend hours toying with his own nipples in the late hours of the night, worrying himself in echo to whatever scholarly debate kept him from catching his sleep. He’d arrive at class the next day overly sensitive to every shift of his shirt across his chest, sitting perfectly motionless through class to avoid agitating them more and stirring up an erection. He’d been so young then, of course, not even sixteen by the end of it, but the desire still stands. 

Aaron’s eyes hone in on Alex’s slightly parted mouth, a hint of white teeth showing through his chapped lips. No doubt Alexander would smile wickedly at him if he ever figured out Aaron’s proclivities. He can imagine the sweep of Alex’s dark hair over his chest as he sucked one of Aaron’s nipples into his mouth. A wet, hot heat would pull the blood to the surface of his skin, kissing a bruise over his flesh. Then those teeth would find him, scraping into the sensitive skin around the nub, taking the nipple between his teeth and _tugging._

A loan moan escapes Aaron and his eyes snap open. He releases his own nipple from their torture and rubs soothingly at the flesh. His eyes dart across Alexander’s face, but the man has not twitched. Aaron is half-grateful, half-disappointed by it. 

His own breath has grown labored. Aaron finally lets his nipples rest as his hand snakes down across his abdomen and rests in the heat between his thighs. Here, he doesn’t bother to tease. It’s a hard enough move to make. Aaron and Alex’s legs are entangled enough that the head of Aaron’s cock presses into Alex’s soft belly. 

Aaron shifts back, minutely, and puts a few millimeters of space between the head of his cock and Alex’s flesh – or tries to. He’s smeared precome onto Alexander’s stomach; sticky strands connect the head of his dripping cock to the other man’s stomach. 

It’s a violation. Aaron would punish Alex profusely if the other man ever tried the same. Aaron would feel guilty, if he wasn’t feeling so incredibly turned on. 

Carefully, very slowly so as not to shake the bed, Aaron strokes his cock. It’s dry with nothing but precome to provide slickness, but Aaron welcomes the coarse drag. His palm his rough against the sensitive skin of his cock, catching the drops of liquid at the tip and pulling them down the shaft. He keeps his strokes long and slow, in time to the rise and fall of Alexander’s chest. His hips want to squirm with it – Aaron can feel the tendons in his legs stretching, wanting to move but trapped under the sleeping weight of Alexander’s knees and thighs. 

He sweats and the sheets grow damp and cloying underneath him. He’s glad that the blankets were kicked long ago to the end of the bed, leaving nothing but a thin white sheet that has now slipped low over their legs. Aaron shakes with the desire to move, to call out. He wants to writhe, but he cannot. Embarrassment as well as desire for Alexander to sleep keeps him still. He imagines Alex’s cat-like smile if he were to wake up and catch Aaron stroking his own cock scarce centimeters from the sleeping man’s body. Aaron, who prides himself so much in his restraint and his propriety, shudders at the thought. Oh how Alexander could ruin him. 

It isn’t long before Aaron is panting audibly and it is _agony._ It seems his body has had enough of patience tonight. He cannot stroke himself fast enough to provide relief and frustration and arousal only build at his futile efforts – a foreplay that never ends. 

He tries to squeeze the head of his cock for relief, but is only rewarded with a bead of precome dropping from his cock to Alexander’s skin. Aaron groans, almost a sob of frustration, and bucks his hips once, on accident, against Alexander’s soft belly. 

The action startles him out of his own want. He stops suddenly and opens his eyes, suddenly unsure when he closed them. 

He finds himself looking directly into Alexander’s dark gaze. Alex stares too shrewdly aware to not have been awake from sometime and Aaron’s face burns. He cannot recall how long it has been since he’s opened his eyes – sometime after he let go of his nipples and found his cock, but when –

He tries to release his cock, but suddenly there is Alexander’s hand clamping down on his own, squeezing Aaron through his own fingers. 

This time, Aaron isn’t imagining Alexander’s wicked smirk. “Oh no, don’t let me stop you.”

Aaron’s whole body flushes –mortification rolls down his spine. He wants to hide his head and turn away, but he knows – _he knows_ – Alexander doesn’t care, doesn’t want to do anything but tease him. It’s his own damn sensibilities at work against him. A deep shame that rises up and makes him choke out Alexander’s name. 

The demon in bed with him doesn’t flinch. His hand comes off Aaron’s cock and pats him lightly on the cheek, fingers sticky with Aaron’s own slick. “Don’t stop now. I was enjoying the show.”

Alexander’s eyes are so expectant, Aaron feels caught between them. It’s such a ridiculous reversal of their usual roles, but it doesn’t feel unnatural. He can feel the stickiness of his own precome where Alexander has rubbed onto his face. Humiliation, low and deep, sits like a bruise beneath his skin. Slowly, he begins to stroke himself again. His erection hasn’t flagged in the slightest. 

The wet sound of his hand on his cock seems abnormally loud in the darkness. Alexander pets Aaron’s face as he works himself, never looking away from his eyes. His fingers trace a line from the top of Aaron’s forehead down the length of his nose. On his lips, they pause and trace back and forth. They’re still sticky. Involuntarily, Aaron’s tongue jots out and licks his lips, brushing against Alexander’s digits. He tastes the salt of his own precome before Alexander pulls back, wagging a finger at him. It shines wet in the moonlight. 

“Ah, ah, this is mine,” Alex scolds him. “You didn’t ask.” And then, just to be an asshole, he takes his own finger in his mouth and hollows out his cheeks around it, working it in and out for several long moments while Aaron forgets to breathe. He pulls it out again with a pop and grins. 

He presses the wet finger back against Aaron’s lips, spreading his spit across Aaron’s mouth. “You can have this one instead,” he says. “If you say the magic word.”

Aaron feels disgusting. It doesn’t stop him from opening his mouth. “Alexander, please – ”

Whatever words he means to sat are silenced when Alex pushes into his mouth. They both moan and Aaron’s cock jolts in his grip. His hand works faster, squeezing harder. Alex curls around him, pressing their foreheads together. Their breaths mingle together, even as Alex’s finger curls down on Aaron’s tongue. 

The head of Aaron’s cock jerks against the warm skin of Alexander’s belly. Alex’s legs have clamped down on Aaron’s, trapping him even more effectively. He feels cradled in Alexander’s embrace – small in a way he shouldn’t. They’re both lean men, both shorter than most of their compatriots, but Aaron never felt lesser until he met Alexander and saw what it meant to fill a room. 

Now, the press of Alexander’s forehead against his own is almost too much. He’s sweating and shaking. The speed of his fist around his cock seems obscene, but at the same time the white pleasure is almost trivial. Aaron’s mind is distracted by feathery touch of Alex’s hair against his face and the pressure on his tongue when Alexander presses down, forcing him to drool on the pillow. 

When his orgasm hits him, it’s almost inconsequential. There’s a burst of fine-edged heat and he keens, high and loudly, biting down on Alex’s finger. The orgasm rolls through him as a warm shiver, curling his toes and arching his back. But still, when he comes back to himself, he finds Alexander’s forehead still pressed against his own, his legs still trapped between them. He’s still cradled – still held. Alexander’s eyes look down at him full of warmth and void of triumph. Aaron’s head spins. 

Whatever he sees on Aaron’s face causes Alexander to laugh. He moves now, pressing his lips to Aaron’s forehead in a kiss before pressing down on his shoulders. In his dizzy state, Aaron doesn’t grasp the unspoken demand. 

“You’ve made a mess of me, princess,” Alex explains, amusement in his voice. “Why doesn’t you clean it up for me.” He presses down on Aaron’s shoulders again and rolls over, lying down on his back. Aaron looks down and sees his spill shining brightly on Alexander’s skin. He hesitates. 

“You want me to - ?” He doesn’t quite know how to say it.

“Yep,” Alex agrees, popping the word. He’s stopped pressing now, but his eyes hold a challenge. Aaron thinks of the way Alex has called him princess, wonders why he hasn’t stopped him yet. It isn’t his thing; at least, it never was before. But then, his bones have never felt as delicate – light and hollow as a bird’s – as they do now. 

“Okay,” he says, looking down. “Okay.”

He kicks the sheets fully off their bodies and worms his way down Alex’s side. His skin feels absurdly hot and sticky in the cool night air, but Alexander is searing beneath his hands too. He can see Alex’s cock laying half-hard against his stomach, but his eyes remain fixated on the lines of come he’s spilled onto Alexander’s flesh. 

He kneels at Alexander’s side and studies them. His hands find Alex’s waist and he holds him, rubbing circles in the flesh near his sharp hipbones. When he glances up, he sees Alex watching him with an inscrutable expression. 

Okay, he thinks. Okay.

He leans over and presses his tongue against Alexander’s skin, thinking to clean him quickly. The first swipe he takes he almost can’t finish. He gags, hesitating a moment with his mouth full of his own come, suddenly unsure whether he can actually swallow it or not. It isn’t even the thought of swallowing come – he’s a polite partner, he’s swallowed more men’s loads then he wants to think about – but the deliberate act of cleaning himself off Alexander’s skin jars him. 

Alexander’s hand comes down and strokes the top of his head, petting the skin of his scalp. Aaron swallows. His seed slides down his throat thickly, settling in his stomach. Then he leans down and continues his job, licking wide sweeps off Alexander’s smooth stomach. It isn’t bad, though he doesn’t particularly like it. But Alex’s hands are stroking his head softly and he’d stay anywhere not to lose the gentle feeling. He keeps licking when his come is gone, replacing the bitter taste with the sweet sweat of Alexander’s skin. Alexander lets him, still petting. 

Eventually, Aaron begins to grow bored. He isn’t sure how long he’s been down there, licking at Alex’s belly. His mind has sunken into a strange mood, a childlike playfulness taking over his consciousness. The littlest sensations hold him captive. The sharpness of shame has faded away like the pleasure of his orgasm, leaving him floating half-breathless.

He moves his way downward, nuzzling against Alex’s cock. His nose presses into the dark hair around the base, scenting the musk. Alexander’s cock presses against his cheek and he turns his head so he can kiss it, rubbing his lips against it chastely. 

But he doesn’t want it in his mouth, he realizes even as he is already moving up. Not right now. What had he been saying before? That he’d been neglectful of the little things. 

He crawls up Alex’s body and kisses his way to his jaw line. He presses an almost chaste kiss to Alexander’s lips, nothing more than skin to skin, before Alexander groans and seizes the back of Aaron’s head, pulling him deeper. Alexander’s mouth devours him, coring him open from the inside. He bits at Aaron’s lip, promising to bruise him, before letting him go. Aaron hums in thanks. 

Then it’s back down again. He finds Alexander’s nipples and plants his butterfly kisses in the muscle around them. One hand gently massages one nipple while his mouth sucks on the other, getting it pretty and wet. Aaron blows on it, watching Alex shiver beneath him. 

Alex’s hands are on his chest soon, pushing him up and back. “Okay, that’s enough of that,” Alex mutters, almost to himself. Aaron whines, but his protests are lost as Alex crowds him, pushing him up until he leans up against the pillows. Alex has both hands on Aaron’s knees spreading him open and Aaron can see now Alex’s fully erect cock weeping heavily now between his legs. 

“Fuck me,” he says, almost automatically. 

Alexander laughs. It’s a gentle laugh, not mean. The smirk has returned. “Maybe next time, princess. For now, I just want you to show me that pretty hole of yours. Can you do that for me?”

Aaron hesitates. He isn’t sure what Alex is doing to him, but his tone makes his chest ache. He reaches up and slowly takes over Alexander’s grasp on his knees. He pulls himself open like the cover of a bad magazine, shuddering at the exposure. Alex kneels between his legs and watches him, not touching save for the gluttonous gaze he lays on him. 

“That’s beautiful,” Alexander promises, meeting his eye. “You have a beautiful little hole. I’d love to come all over it – make it messy for you. Would you like that?”

Aaron blushes, even has his head nods eagerly. He’s never heard Alex like this before. So often their encounters had consisted of each of them bending over the nearest desk or bed or carpet and battling each other to be on top. He can’t stop but wonder bitterly if this is the tone that once had John Laurens stare in devotion of his Alexander. 

He pushes the green thought away. Alexander is in bed with _him._ His words are meant for _Aaron_ and no one else. 

Alexander smiles at him, before extending a hand to Aaron’s mouth.

“Spit for me, princess. Give me something to wet my cock.”

Aaron spits, then spits again. Alex hums and retracts his hand, spreading Aaron’s spittle up the length of his shaft. He groans when he takes himself in hand and Aaron is memorized. Alex jerks himself off in quick, hard little strokes, twisting at the end. He pants freely and Aaron watches his chest, feeling his own heartbeat pick up in turn. 

He feels tied to the drag and pull of Alex’s hand on his cock, working himself. His own arms shake where he holds himself open, anticipation curling inside him. 

Meanwhile, Alex’s mouth is spitting out words of praise. Calling Aaron a princess and beautiful and doing twisting things to Aaron’s chest. 

He knows when Alex is close when he goes still, hips not rocking at he strokes himself, lining his cock up to Aaron’s hole and pumping himself. 

The come hits him in a hot line that makes him twitch. At once, he can feel it on his hole, dripping over his balls and running over his ass. It’s a deeply disturbed feeling. Aaron can feel himself shaking almost as hard as Alex, breathing as if he’s just run a marathon. 

Alex doesn’t give him time to think about it. He finishes emptying his orgasm onto Aaron and then he’s moving, gliding down and licking up Aaron’s ass. His tongue is a new heat on Aaron’s overtly sensitive skin. It circles around his hole without pressing in – not so much rimming him as getting him clean again. Unlike Aaron, Alex doesn’t hesitate to lick up his own come, finishing the job quickly while Aaron still holds himself, waiting for the next thing to come. 

It does, but only in the form of Alex bodily climbing over him and pressing him deep into the mattress with another bruising kiss. When he has consumed him, Alex pulls Aaron’s body down into the center of the bed and retrieves the sheet, laying it over them. He doesn’t say a word. Aaron couldn’t if he tries. 

Alex pulls Aaron’s back against his chest and recaptures his legs between his thighs, arm over his chest. For the second time tonight, Aaron feels so small. He breathes out, unable to stop his lips from curling upwards. He curves around his own arms, his body pleasantly warm. Alexander cradles his body and he feels not lesser, but precious, something made to be coveted and held tight.

In the morning, he knows, the humiliation will return to him. The doubt and the uncertainty and the feeling of inadequacy – but here, in this moment, he feels safe and small and warm. 

He falls asleep to the sound of Alexander’s breathing against his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, drop me a note to let me know! I'm always looking for new ideas to play with.


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